


Taken

by luckystars921



Category: Jonas Brothers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:55:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24522709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckystars921/pseuds/luckystars921
Summary: Harper Reid had a plan for the day: photograph the Jonas Brothers in concert then hopefully have someone purchase, or even just publish, her photos thus launching her career as a music photo-journalist.Ambition put Harper in the wrong place at the wrong time.Now she's fighting for her life with someone who wasn't supposed to be more then a paycheck...
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter One: The Concert

**Author's Note:**

> Putting this warning here simply because it is something that happens off-screen rather then full-blown 'reading it as it happens'. So, technically there is a 'rape' warning for much later in this story.
> 
> Originally Written: 11/24/08 - 3/24/09  
> Revised: May 2020 -
> 
> [](https://s1060.photobucket.com/user/luckystars9218/media/JBFA/Taken%20Story%20Banner%20-%202020_zpsvmqnkcca.jpg.html)  
> 

On February 7th of 2009 a small black ten year old Camry pulled into the furthest parking lot from Wachovia Center building possible and a frustrated twenty-two year old finally relaxed as she put the vehicle in park, "Thank goodness," she muttered. "Five fucking hours later and I'm finally here."  
  
She took a quick glance around outside her car noticing a few people seemed to have the same idea as her, parking as close to the exit as possible, before she grabbed the camera bag and her small messenger bag off the floor and climbed out of car. Opening the back door she pulled her heavy grey wool peacoat out quickly threw it on in an attempt to avoid the biting February winds.  
  
Almost fifteen minutes later her car had been locked up and she had crossed all the parking lots of the Wachovia Center in Philadelphia finally reaching the line of dedicated fans that had, based on the amount of quilts and pillows she saw with them, probably been wrapped around the building since possibly last night despite the fact that it was the middle of February and the temperature had been below freezing the night before. Shaking her head in amusement, since the show wasn’t even General Admission, Harper pulled her camera out of the bag and began taking a few candid shots of the crowd surrounding the venue. The ringing of her cell phone twenty minutes later distracted her enough to put the camera down.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Harper?"  
  
"Oh hey Mom," Harper greeted her mother in a slightly annoyed tone, at this, her sixth call since the 22-year-old had left their house that morning. "What's up this time?"  
  
"Don't take that tone with me Harper," her mother scolded. "I'm just worried. I didn't like the idea of you driving to Philadelphia this time of year alone. And I was right - you got stuck on the road for hours behind that accident. Are you at least there yet?"  
  
Harper laughed a bit and replied, "Yes Mother. I just got here a few minutes ago. And I still have a little over three hours until the show even starts."  
  
"Well, it's supposed to storm again tonight. Is there any way you can stay in a hotel rather then driving back to Long Island?"  
  
Harper frowned and looked up at the clear blue sky, "It looks nice here Mom. A little windy and a lot cold; but the air isn’t damp and the sky’s clear."  
  
"Well, it's grey and cloudy here and I just heard some thunder. I don't want you driving in that. This time of year and a rain storm will very quickly turn into sleet. I went to the bank and put five hundred into your checking account. That should cover a room somewhere halfway clean, food and any kind of emergency with your car – God forbid. Use your debit card and get a hotel room locally and drive back tomorrow," Maureen Reid told her daughter.  
  
"Fine. I can see a Marriot across the highway from where I’m standing. I’ll go there; a single room shouldn’t be too much," Harper said trying to sound aggravated when in truth the idea of not having to drive the three hours home after the show was appealing – and now she could afford it.  
  
"Who are you shooting for again?" Maureen finally asked.  
  
Harper rolled her eyes because she had explained this multiple times to her mother over the last few days, "I'm not shooting for anyone specifically. I made a few calls for the photo passes cause, as invalid as it may be, I still have those press passes from college so I'm just shooting them for my portfolio. I took a gamble; it paid off."  
  
"No I know that. You explained that earlier. I meant what band?"  
  
“Did I leave that part out of the explanation?” Harper questioned, trying to sound confused.

“You did. In fact, you actively avoided telling me,” her mother replied.  
  
“Oh, umm, The Jonas Brothers?”  
  
"Your sister’s favorite band?” Harper's mother asked, referring to her eighteen year old sister Casey who was currently in her freshmen year at Boston University studying English.  
  
"Yes, she's pissed as hell that I didn't bring her with me," Harper admitted laughing.  
  
"I’m not exactly surprised by that after the Thanksgiving debacle," Maureen agreed, chuckling herself. “You’re going to at least buy her something right? No excuses about money now since I apparently fixed that issue earlier.”  
  
"Yes Ma," Harper said assured with a sigh. "I promise. Casey will receive something – not that she needs anymore Jonas Brothers merch. I gotta go though. I have to go pick my credentials up and take some more crowd shots before going inside."  
  
"Ok sweetie. Call the hotel after we get off the phone. I’ll look up the Marriott’s number nearby the venue now so I have it. And call me when you’re in the room for the night."  
  
"Show's not over til ten-thirty-ish Mom. It'll be late by the time I checked into a room," Harper pointed out.  
  
"I don't care. I'm your mother. I worry."  
  
"Ok, I'll call you when I get to the hotel. I love you Mom."  
  
"Love you too Harper. Be safe. And call the hotel now," Maureen said before hanging up the phone.  
  
The twenty-two-year-old New York native laughed fondly and pulled up the search engine on the Blackberry Bold she had upgraded to at Christmas to get herself a room booked for the evening; since knowing her mother she’d call and check that Harper had done as she said.  
  
Ten minutes later, after a quick phone call to reserve a one-bed room for the night at the Marriott across the street, Harper wandered around down the line of girls catching snippets of conversations as she went. Most of the talk was about how cool it was that the Jonas Brothers had decided to play a random show in Philadelphia, the girls were obviously ignoring the fact that said band had been playing a few one off shows purposefully over the past few months – almost as an extension of the Burning Up Tour – while they worked on their next album.

Information that Harper didn’t particularly feel needed to be taking up space in her brain either; but her sister Casey had insisted on pointing it out to her every single time the Jonas Brothers played a show that wasn't in Boston lately. As though the younger teen hadn’t gone to Jones Beach and then the three Madison Square Garden shows – four days in a row – the summer before.  
  
The last show her sister had tried to attend had been over Thanksgiving, of all times, and that had been one conversation Harper wished she had missed witnessing as they moved her sister into her dorm at the end of August.  
  
 _"Mooooooooooooooom! Why not?"  
  
Harper rolled her eyes from where she was hanging up clothes in the tiny dorm closet and watched her eighteen year old sister throw a borderline temper tantrum because their parents wouldn't pay for her to fly to Las Vegas, stay in a hotel and see The Jonas Brothers during her Thanksgiving break from college.  
  
"Can you pay for it Casey-Lynn?"  
  
"Umm...no?"  
  
"That's why then," Maureen pointed out simply and Harper had to contain her laughter at the dumbstruck look on her sister's face.  
  
"How about as a Christmas present?" the younger Reid sibling asked hopefully.  
  
"What do you call that new laptop you wanted for school? When your desktop at home was only two years old."  
  
"An early birthday present then?"  
  
"Funny. I thought your birthday present, for the birthday in August, was already tickets to four Jonas Brother shows," Martin Reid reminded his daughter from his seat at the desk where he had been avoiding joining the conversation as well as he could in the small room.  
  
"You guys aren't fair! Harper can come with me then it'll be like a...a...sisterly trip!"  
  
"Hey!" Harper exclaimed loudly. "Don't drag me into this so you can go see some band."  
  
"Harper!" Casey hissed.  
  
"Nuh-uh, some of us have student loans to pay off," Harper said and held her hands up. "Mom and Dad already wrote me a nice check to help with those for Christmas. I'm not asking for anything else. Unless you tell me that Rise Against is like opening for these kids?"  
  
"No? Honor Society is,” Casey replied, looking confused as if Harper had actually thought Rise Against was a possibility.  
  
"Yea, not going," Harper said snickering a little at her younger sisters expression._  
  
Needless to say when Casey-Lynn Reid found out her sister was not only going to a Jonas Brothers concert, but was photographing one, she hadn't been pleased.  
  
Harper finally reached what she hoped was the last sign and walked down a short set of stairs only to see a smaller line of girls waiting impatiently in front of a door.  
  
"Is this will call?" she asked the first girl in line.  
  
"Yea! And you have to get in the back of the line!" the small blonde, who looked about fourteen, snapped.  
  
"Relax kid, I'm just trying to pick up my creds. Not steal your space in line. What are you waiting over here for anyway? I thought the line was back by the main doors?"  
  
"Meet and greet," she said simply. "Creds for what?"  
  
"Nothing you need to be concerned about," Harper replied and opened the door to enter the box office.  
  
"I told you girls you need to wait, oh hello?" an older gentleman stated from the first window.  
  
"Hi," Harper said smirking. "I just need to pick up my photo passes. They should have been left here."  
  
"Do you have your press credentials?" the man asked and Harper passed him the laminate that claimed she was a photographer for the Oneonta State Times. "These are from 2008," he pointed out and Harper inwardly cursed.  
  
"Yea, they don't reissue them every semester," she lied quickly. "I got them updated in the fall. It’s for the 2008 through 2009 school year," she elaborated, but being as vague as possible since they also said she was a Senior and the Photo Editor of the college paper. And the school definitely had re-issued them in the Spring of 2008 for her final semester.  
  
Harper didn't relax until he handed her an envelope and her press pass back. The Jonas Brothers were pretty strict about who, other then the photographer on staff, got to take pictures at concerts. And freelance college graduates with out of date press credentials didn’t tend to make the cut.

Quickly thanking him she left the box office and hurried back up the outdoor steps. She located a small bench a few seconds later and sat down on it to open the envelope. Inside was a fabric sticker that was bright yellow with "JONAS BROTHERS" and "PRESS PHOTO PASS” printed on it. Stamped in the center was scribbled in sharpie "Philly" and "February 7th 2009" along with her last name, "Reid." There was also a brief letter of instructions that stated she could shoot during the first three songs of each performer, she’d be able to wait nearby the front during this process and that after the third Jonas Brothers song she would need to go to her seat or leave.  
  
"Well, that's efficient or just overly paranoid maybe," she said to herself as she peeled the sticker off and stuck it on her left thigh so it could be seen even while she was wearing her coat. A look at her watch then told her two things, it was two hours before the show was supposed to begin and she hadn't eaten lunch yet. Standing up Harper began walking the line again, rolling her eyes at the girls that called out to her now that she was wearing the photo pass.  
  
A quick conversation with a very cold looking security guard had informed her that there was a small diner essentially right across the complex from the arena, if she didn't mind a ten minute walk back through the entire parking lot to the other side. Considering that anywhere else would either require moving her car and paying to park again or waiting until the venue opened up so she could go to one of the restaurants inside – she decided to walk.  
  
Almost exactly ten minutes later Harper was pulling the door to the incredibly small diner open and stepping inside relishing the warmth. Looking around she was a little surprised to see the place entirely empty except for an older man sitting at a stool and three men ranging from their early thirties to late forties sitting at the booth right next to the door. Somehow she had expected this place to be full of parents.  
  
"Just take any seat hun," a waitress called sticking her head out of the kitchen doors. "I'll be with you in a second."  
  
"Actually," Harper called back. "I was hoping to get something to go? If possible?"  
  
"Oh," the waitress said sounding put out but she walked out of the kitchen anyway. "What do you want?"  
  
"A grilled cheese sandwich with tomato and bacon on whole wheat bread with french fries," Harper answered simply.  
  
"Give me ten minutes," the woman said smartly and stuck the pen back behind her ear. "You can wait at the counter."  
  
Harper nodded and took a seat next to the register so she wouldn't have to go far.  
  
She didn't really consider that it put her in a position to practically stare at the men in the first booth. At least she didn't consider it until she caught sight of what was on their table. Almost unconsciously she started wondering what the hell three grown men had pictures of the Jonas Brothers in front of them for.  
  
It only took a few seconds more for the photographer in her to recognize the shots for their professional quality as well.  
  
"Hey kid," the oldest man called and Harper met his steel gaze boldly. "What are you staring at?"  
  
"Nothing," she said shrugging. "You guys work for Wireimage or something?"  
  
"What?" he asked.  
  
"Those photos. They were taken with a telephoto. I figured you work for one of those celebrity photo sites," she said pointing at the table.  
  
"Yea...yea,'' he replied snidely. "Wireimage."  
  
"Whatever, I was just asking," she muttered and stood up as the waitress came out of the kitchen with a bag and rang her up. Harper grabbed her things and took one more glance at the table pondering the fact that they didn't have any bags with them and they certainly didn't have any cameras. Once Harper had left the diner and began her walk back to the venue the man from inside faded from her thoughts.  
  
She stopped at her car to each her early dinner and was contemplating a twenty minute nap when her cell phone rang again.  
  
"Yes Casey?" Harper answered after she looked at the call display.  
  
"Did you meet them?!"  
  
"No and I'm not going to. I've got photo passes Casey nothing else. Hell, I had to buy my ticket."  
  
"I know, I just hoped," Casey muttered. "I shoulda come with you."  
  
"You've got a midterm tomorrow," Harper pointed out gently.  
  
"Ugh, don't remind me. Joe Jonas is so much more important then Biology. Why do I even need to take Bio?" Casey whined and Harper laughed at her sister. "That's right. Make fun of my misery."  
  
"Yes, you not seeing the Jonas Brothers in concert, again, is the end of the world. If I see Joe I'll be sure to send your regards. Which one is Joe again?" Harper joked and laughed harder when she heard her sisters frustrated growl. "I'm kidding. He's my future brother in law of course. Your soulmate. The father of your future children. He of the shiny hair and eyes. Believe me, I know which one Joe is."  
  
"I hate you so much sometimes," Casey hissed and hung up the phone.  
  
"No you don't," Harper replied to the dial tone and put her phone away.  
  
To outsiders it seemed as if the Reid siblings weren't close and in fact the exact opposite was true. Harper and Casey might as well have been twins growing up – despite the four year age difference – right down to both their birthday’s being August 12th. Their parents had repeatedly reassured the girls that they most certainly did not plan it that way – as they weren’t actually insane.

  
She looked up when she heard a sudden bout of muted screaming and relaxed when she could see the far end of the line, nearer to where she was parked, starting to pick up their things – as parents lugged bags and blankets back to cars. A quick glance at her phone had her raising her eyebrow in surprise when Harper saw that it was at least an hour before the door was supposed to open.

  
"Must be because it's so damn cold," Harper mused aloud, after a glance at her dashboard showed the outside temperature to be around 25 degrees Fahrenheit.  
  
She stuffed her garbage into the bag she kept in the trash bag she kept in the front of the car and got out, tossing her jacket into the backseat again and trading it for a hoodie and a scarf over her t-shirt instead. A lightning bolt idea hit her on her way towards the doors of the arena. Pausing mid-step Harper turned and started walking in the entirely opposite direction, following the building still but now moving away from the line of fans that were working their way slowly to the doors of the arena.  
  
She remembered Casey once telling her how an hour before they get on stage the band goes into lock-down, but before that, other then sound check and meet and greet they were mostly free to do whatever they pleased.  
  
"Let's see if any of them wander around outside the back of the venue," Harper whispered to herself, casually glancing around for security guards – private or employed by the venue.  
  
She was used to shooting shows for smaller punk style bands and could always count on them to be outside hanging out. And while she didn't expect to actually find any Jonas Brothers wandering around it didn't hurt to check – and it was a way to kill time until the line dissipated a bit too. She continued to take a few random fan shots until she turned a corner and was faced with a row of bike rack.  
  
"Bingo," she smiled to herself and glanced around. Seeing no security in the area, she quickly climbed over the rack that most concert venues use as half-assed barricade and continued on her walk. Turning another corner she stopped short and ducked behind a dumpster. "Score," she giggled happily and poised her camera at the ready.  
  
Standing maybe fifteen feet away from Harper was the brother she recognized from her sister's ramblings as Kevin texting on his cell phone. He was leaning against the building and appeared to be entirely alone and judging by how he was dressed – just a long-sleeved button down and jeans – he wasn’t planning on being outside for very long either. Harper also noticed the door next to him was propped open with a brick and didn't have a handle on the outside. She could see a few tour busses in the background and equipment cases scattered around – but somehow not one single other crew member in the vicinity at the moment.  
  
Part of Harper felt almost bad about taking these photos, but she pushed her conscience down because he wasn't doing anything remotely incriminating, or even private really, and like she told her sister, she had loans to pay.  
  
She assured herself that if he had been doing something private that she would have walked away – she wasn’t paparazzi.  
  
And with a depressed realization in her gut, she acknowledged that no one would probably buy her photos anyway.  
  
After a few more minutes of taking pictures Harper started to stand up to sneak away and go into the concert but had to freeze when he looked up and in her direction. She ducked back down and waited for an outraged yell; instead, she heard the sound of an engine and watched a large delivery-type truck pull up in front of Kevin, having come down the service road around the back of the venue opposite to where Harper had walked from.  
  
She watched curiously and confused as the three men from the diner got out of the van – leaving a significantly younger man with brown hair that she hadn’t seen before in the driver’s seat.  
  
There was the oldest man who had spoken to her in the diner, with the steel eyes.  
  
The youngest, of the diner three, a man with sandy blonde hair.  
  
And the third, who looked like he could be the much older brother of the driver and the blonde. For some reason, even more so then the oldest man, this one struck something in Harper’s hindbrain. This man was dangerous. He radiated it.  
  
Harper crouched further behind the dumpster but slid to the other side, more towards the building itself. Quietly she aimed her camera – zoomed in as much as possible – at the foot wide space between the dumpster and the building. It wasn’t perfect, but it put her at an angle behind Kevin this time; therefore, giving her a much better view of the men’s faces.  
  
She saw Kevin make a gesture – but couldn’t hear what was said. The man from the diner obviously replied and whatever he said had Kevin stiffen fairly noticeably.  
  
Harper continued to shoot as many pictures as she could, just constantly hitting the button of her camera, glancing down every few seconds at the camera screen to make sure she was still aiming at faces, while keeping herself hidden.  
  
There was another short exchange and Harper watched as Kevin turned and reached to push the door open and go inside. She almost relaxed and was ready to laugh at herself – until to her horrified disbelief she saw the man she had pegged as dangerous reached out faster then she thought possible for someone of his size, wrap his arm around Kevin’s neck and push a cloth he pulled out of his pocket over the musicians mouth. A struggle of maybe twenty seconds ensued and Harper watched as Kevin fell limply in his attackers arms.  
  
Shaking with fear she thought clearly enough to shuffled back to the other side of the dumpster and risk exposure to take a few pictures of the front of the truck – hopefully getting the license plate as the men began dragging the popstar into the vehicle.  
  
That last thought about Kevin being dragged into a truck fully registered in her mind and Harper quickly shoved her camera into her messenger bag, as it was quicker to access, and then slid both bags down behind, and under, the dumpster. A quick inhale and she ran – darting out from behind the large metal container and back in the direction of the parking lot.  
  
She heard shouts and ran harder and faster trying to reach the front of the venue and find security. She turned the first corner and spotted the bike rack in front of her and began screaming for help. Just as she placed her hands on the metal barricade and tried to vault herself over the four foot high obstacle a hand grabbed her arm and jerked backwards hard.  
  
With a scream of pain, and a pop in her shoulder, she fell to the floor and gasped as the back of her skull smacked into the concrete. Gazing dazedly up she spotted the man she had dubbed, "older brother." The same one who had subdued Kevin in seconds.  
  
Groaning she felt her body being lifted. The motion and a sudden burst of adrenaline snapped her back to clarity and Harper began kicking and screaming. A hand clamped over her mouth to try and muffle her. She still struggled, although the fog in her head from when she hit the ground was beginning to come back, but Harper still fought as she had always been taught to.  
  
The hand over her mouth shifted just enough and Harper took her opportunity. She bit hard into the soft tissue between the man's thumb and forefinger and almost retched when she felt and tasted the warm coppery liquid flood her mouth.  
  
"You bitch!" the man who had been holding her screamed, ripped his hand out of her mouth and dropped her. Her legs buckled as she hit the ground and Harper spit and gagged feeling the blood and saliva run down her face. Gagging she vomited onto the ground from the combination of the taste of the blood and the nausea from the pain in her head and arm. She screamed again as a hand grabbed her pony tail and yanked her head up, this scream was cut short by a back hand to the face that she felt split her lip.  
  
"Shut up you nosy bitch," a different voice said and Harper looked up to see the oldest of the men, the steel eyed man from the diner, holding her up by her long brown hair. "You just had to poke your nose where it didn't belong. And now we're stuck with you too."  
  
He shoved Harper towards the youngest of the three men outside the van; no one seemed to care that he was gripping the arm Harper was fairly certain was dislocated from the way it hung limply at her side – leaving her to half-dangle, more then a little dazed, in his grip, "What are we gonna do with her Paulie?"  
  
"Don't use my god damned name!" the oldest man, Paulie, she reminded herself, snapped.  
  
Harper then spotted the first man who had grabbed her kneeling near where he had dropped her and smiled brightly when she saw he was clutching a blood soaked bandana to his hand.  
  
Harper took their distraction as a chance to attempt and scream again, quickly realizing at this point it was futile, her screams were blending in with those of the girls on the other side of the venue.  
  
Her eyes darted to the door that was somehow now closed – despite no one having gone near it. And wondered why no one had come out to look for the band’s oldest member yet.  
  
"Like the boss said, you shoulda minded your business. Time to go to sleep now," the youngest man that was holding onto her whispered in her ear as he held something over her face and Harper began struggling against the cloth she had seen them use on Kevin with what minimal strength or clarity she had left from the adrenaline that was still pumping.  
  
She thought she heard a new, fourth, voice pointing out that putting her out was a bad idea after she had hit her head as hard as she had. She then would swear she heard the man from the diner tell that fourth voice to shut up and get back in the driver’s seat.  
  
That was the last thing Harper Reid heard before she was tossed in the back of the truck next to Kevin Jonas' unconscious body.


	2. Chapter Two: The Discovery

"Turn here," Paulie told the driver of the truck twenty minutes after they got out of the venue complex. A quick glance in the rear view showed Michael attempting to bandage his older brother Peter's hand from where the girl had bit him. "How's your hand?"  
  
"I swear to God when I get my hands on that fucking bitch," Peter growled out and winced as the bandage was pulled tighter. "I probably need stitches and a fucking tetanus shot."  
  
"Yea well, you can't," Michael said pulling the bandage again. "One look at that hand and they'd have to report it. Unless you have any reasonable explanation for a human bite?"  
  
"Randy," Paulie said getting the driver's attention. "Make a left on that small road and pull over by that truck."  
  
Randy Davis, the youngest of the three brothers nodded silently at his oldest brother's business partner, Paul Stanford.  
  
"Alright, everyone out," Paulie said and opened his door. "Make sure to wipe this entire truck down Randy. I want no prints left behind."  
  
Randy nodded again and opened the bag next to him that contained a large bottle of bleach and some towels. Pulling on a set of latex gloves he watched his brothers climb out of the truck and set about his task of making sure they weren't caught.

He watched through the windshield as the three older men stood around talking, smoking cigarettes and opening up the back of a small moving truck. He could see the inside was completely bare except for a few blankets. Michael climbed up and started looking around while Peter continued to gesture at his injured hand. Randy smirked, he had seen the girl bite his brother and part of him had been cheering her on as he remembered the beatings he used to get as a kid.  
  
He continued to scrub the cab of the truck, making sure to get every inch of the dash and handles, as he remembered what had led him to his current task.  
  
 _"Randy!"  
  
Randy Davis looked around the corner and into his brother's living room curiously as he finished hanging up his coat.  
  
"What is it Pete?"  
  
"Want to make some money?"  
  
The twenty-seven year old convenience store manager looked at his brother and cautiously asked, "Doing what?"  
  
"I need you to drive a truck," Peter Davis, thirty-eight and a restaurant owner, answered.  
  
"That's it?" Randy asked in surprise; he was well aware that his brother's business partners had the tendency to dabble in less the legal practices so he assumed there was more to this then ‘just’ driving a truck.  
  
"I swear that's it. Just sit in the truck and drive it so me and Paulie can move some stuff. Michael’s helping out too," Peter assured him referring to their thirty-one year old, perpetually unemployed brother.  
  
"How much?"  
  
"Two million," Peter said simply and Randy's jaw dropped.  
  
"I'm in," he finally answered. That was too much money to be too concerned about where some boxes came from, how his brother got them or what they contained.  
_  
"Right, just drive a truck Randy. I’ve gotta move some stuff," he muttered to himself as he finished wiping down the inside of the cab. "I shoulda known better."  
  
When he was initially directed to the large venue after they got into the city, he assumed they were planning on stealing some pricey equipment. A few hours later, that was supported by the passes Paulie produced to get them through venue security and up the service entrance to the loading docks. By the time he realized what was actually going on, a boy whose face was all over his girlfriend's daughter's walls was already in the back of the truck and some girl was trying to remove his brother's hand with her teeth; at that point it was too late to try and stop it without winding up in more trouble then he could even begin to contemplate.

And he didn’t mean from any cops.  
  
"Just drive the truck...and kidnap an international pop star and his girlfriend. Fuck," he muttered and stared again at his brothers wondering not for the first time if they fully realized what they had done. He wouldn't have put it past Paulie to have told them it was just some rich brat whose parents would want everything kept quiet and would pay up quickly.

The media was going to be all over this one.  
  
"Randy!" Michael shouted from the other truck and Randy climbed out of the back cab of the first truck – having finished wiping down the backseats through his contemplation.  
  
"What?"  
  
"We gotta move them to this truck so you can clean out the back of that one too," Michael said pointing at the truck he was standing in.  
  
"How? They're unconscious and with the way you roughed the girl up I'd be honestly surprised if she wakes up at all," Randy told them seriously.  
  
"What are you talking about?" Paulie asked looking skeptically at the youngest of the four.  
  
"You beat her up, she’s got an obviously dislocated shoulder, she smashed her head into the concrete and then got chloroformed on top of everything. If she's still breathing I'll be impressed," Randy answered in a tone that told the other three what morons he thought they were. "I tried to tell you that at the arena."  
  
"Shit," Paulie hissed. "Michael go check on the girl. I need her alive to get my money."  
  
"But Paulie," Pete said slyly. "We only really need the singer. That was the original plan. Let's just pop the bitch now. Leave her in the truck and torch it."  
  
The contemplation on Paulie's face turned Randy's stomach and he tried to muster up what little courage he had to fight for the brunette only relaxing when Paulie shook his head no.  
  
"No, she could be worth something too. She’s probably banging the kid, why else would she have been back there? Which means she’s probably connected to some money somehow," Paulie finally stated. "Get them into the other truck."

Michael snorted out a laugh and walked towards the truck adding, crudely, “Hell, crouched down behind a dumpster when we got there? Probably cleaning herself up after a bit of a spit shine. Ya know?”  
  
Pete grumbled but walked off following Michael and Randy quickly joined them while Paulie went to the cab of the new truck to load their overnight bags in.  
  
"She's breathing," was the first thing Randy heard as he walked around the back of the other truck.  
  
"Pity," Pete answered Michael with a sneer as he kicked her in the side lightly. "Get the bitch down first."  
  
Michael stooped down, grabbed her ankles and dragged her to the edge of the vehicle’s sliding side doors. Randy quickly stepped forward and held his arms out expecting his brother to lower the girl, instead he just pushed her. He felt his knees almost buckle under the sudden weight as he jumped forward to catch and support the girl before she rolled out onto the pavement. Michael was mostly right; she was breathing, but it was shallow. A quick glance at the truck bed showed his brothers being much more careful with the boy, probably since they considered him worth something.  
  
Adjusting the girl in his arms so he could carry her more easily; Randy walked over to the other, larger and taller, moving truck and hoisted the girl up onto the edge before climbing up after her. He tried to pick her up again but couldn’t get leverage and was forced to drag her by the ankles across to the back of the storage area. A glance outside showed his brothers carrying the boy between them; his arms looped around their shoulders, head hanging down and his toes trailing along the floor.  
  
Randy swallowed down bile at the sight. The kid looked dead.

He turned back to the girl and continued to carefully drag her to the corner, wincing as her arm trailed limply and her head jostled. As he began arranging, what he also assumed to be the singer’s girlfriend, he noticed the bright yellow sticker on her leg. A second glance at it surprised him. It wasn’t a backstage pass; it was a photo pass. Hoping no one had noticed, or if they had they also thought it was something for her to wear so she could be with her boyfriend in restricted areas, he tore it off her jeans and crumpled it up before sticking it in his own pocket. As his brothers were beginning to climb into the truck with the Jonas boy, he bit his lip and shook his head. She was dead the second they realized she was a photographer and not someone who could potentially bring in more money.  
  
"You get her set up?" Pete's voice called and Randy turned to see him dragging the boy back towards where Randy was sitting with the girl.  
  
"Yea, just about," Randy answered and dragged some of the blankets over. He began wrapping the girl in them to keep her from going into any form of shock from her injuries and the February weather.

The boy was simply dumped next to him then.  
  
"Get them both set up. Paulie doesn't want them getting sick if it can be avoided."  
  
"Then you should have gotten a truck that had heat back here," Randy shot back at his older brother.  
  
"Just do it and stop bitching."  
  
"Fine," Randy sighed and began making cocoons of blankets around the two young adults. He saved blanket space by placing them next to each other and wrapping them together. "Hopefully, that will help you use body heat too," he told the unconscious figures. "Your parents will pay and then you'll be good to go," he added looking at the two bodies.  
  
"Randy let's go," Michael's voice called from the outside of the truck and Randy stood up and walked away from the people he had helped kidnap. Jumping to the ground he watched as Pete pulled the back of the truck closed and locked it.

“What about the back of the other truck?” he asked.

“I dumped the rest of the bleach everywhere while you fuckers were pissing around with the kids,” Paulie replied with a shrug. “Should take care of anything. Didn’t really touch anything back there.”

Randy nodded, not planning on pointing out how potentially short sighted that was and got into the driver’s seat next to Paulie. As the other two got in the backseat, Randy reached forward and turned the key to start the truck.  
  
After a few minutes had passed and the truck was warmed up and ready to go he turned to Paulie and with a heavy conscience asked, "Where to next boss?"  
  
Paulie answered looking up from a map, "Just get to the highway as fast as you can. We need to get out of the city before they get any roadblocks up. After that, head towards home."

* * *

  
"Has anyone seen Kevin?" Paul Jonas asked walking into the green room. He did a quick head count and reassured himself he was not going crazy; his oldest son was nowhere to be found. "You guys have a meet and greet in ten minutes and I need you all here now. So, anyone?"  
  
"He went outside to call Danielle," Joe answered, unconcerned, then looked up from the book he was reading to glanced at his watch before continuing, “like twenty minutes ago. Maybe a half hour at the most?"  
  
Paul rolled his eyes and gestured for his son to continue.  
  
"That's all I know. Seriously," Joe insisted. "He went right out the back door down the hall near where the loading dock is. Maybe he got locked out. There's no handle on the outside."  
  
"He woulda called moron," Nick said looking up from his math homework. “Or, ya know, climbed in through the loading dock.”  
  
"Not if he broke his phone," Joe pointed out smirking. “And the loading dock got locked up after load-in this morning.”  
  
Paul found himself rolling his eyes again at his teenagers and walked out of the green room. Stopping for a second, after considering how he had found his sons, he poked his head back in the room, "While I go locate your brother how about you two try and be ready for when you have to go and meet the fans?"  
  
The two younger members of The Jonas Brothers looked sheepish at the light scolding and immediately began gathering their things before checking their hair and clothes.  
  
Paul wandered down the hall towards the door in question and spotted Mike, one of their security guards, walking his way.  
  
"Mike," he called.  
  
"Yes, Mr. Jonas?"  
  
"Have you seen Kevin?"  
  
"Actually, I was going to ask you that same thing. He isn't answering his phone," Mike said sounding concerned. "Garbo just told me he saw him go outside by himself a little while ago. But that’s all he knew.”  
  
"By himself? Ok, they left that little detail out of the story," Paul muttered thinking of his other performing sons. "Apparently, he went out this door here," Paul added tapping the now shut side entrance. "And it did close. Guess he is just locked out," Paul said chuckling and pushed the door open.  
  
"Kevin?" Mike called as the two men stuck their heads out into the cold February evening. They were greeted by silence.  
  
"That's weird," Paul muttered peering into the now pitch darkness. Mike grabbed a brick from inside and stuck it against the door frame to keep the door open before stepping out. Paul followed him; and frowned as he saw the door hit the brick and easily hold in place without shifting even slightly. "Kevin!" he called again to his son.  
  
He saw Mike turn the corner a few paces ahead and then heard his voice almost immediately, "Mr. Jonas? I think I found Kevin's phone."  
  
"Where?" Paul asked following the bodyguard. He was more surprised by how close to the door the phone was located; then by the fact that his son’s iPhone was shattered. Turning his head to look around the rest of the area Paul took out his own phone and turned on the flashlight – pointing it around and stopped when he saw what looked like a small puddle a few feet away. As he got closer he could see the coloring in the beam of his flashlight and, more so, smell it. "Vomit," he called back. "And," he added crouching down and looking at the thick substance a few more inches away, "blood."

The color drained from his face and he had to place both hands on the ground to stay upright, "Call the police and get every person on the security detail out here now."

* * *

  
Thirty minutes later the entire back of the arena was swarmed by members of the Philadelphia Police Department and the parking lot was being searched car by car with cadaver dogs. As was the entire venue and surrounding facilities that made up the Wachovia Center Complex.

The city of Philadelphia had pulled out all the stops on this one mere minutes after it had been reported.  
  
Detective Stephen Castro walked into the green room quietly and glanced down at the notepad he had written the observations he collected from the first officers on the scene. He had gotten the call a an hour earlier, at home, during dinner and had broken the speed limit two times over trying to get to the arena.  
  
When Stephen had pulled up a twenty minutes earlier it had been to a mob scene. Girls that hadn't already entered the venue were screaming and crying as they started to assume the worst after seeing the large police presence; regardless of the fact that no real announcement had been made yet. The venue had simply been told to say that there was a family emergency, the concert was going to be rescheduled and that all tickets would be honored at that time.

Families were pouring out of the venue, aggravated parents were screaming at security that they wanted their money back and there was even some fighting in the parking lot. Press surrounded the arena and side streets trying to get a shot or a story or any information at all as to what had happened to cancel the concert at the very last minute.  
  
The detective pushed all those thoughts out of his mind, that was the problems of the venue security. He had a missing, presumed kidnapped, child to find. Twenty-one years old or not, to the seasoned, sixty-three-year-old detective, twenty-one was most definitely a child.  
  
He stood in the doorway observing the green room and mentally assessing the situation before he spoke.

A middle aged woman was sitting on a couch clutching the hand of a young boy of maybe eight or nine while a middle aged man was pacing the room staring at his cell phone.

Stephen took them to be the parents.  
  
On another couch there were two teen-aged boys, both pale faced with wide eyes. Eying them a little more carefully it suddenly hit Stephen who exactly he was in the room with. He knew he had probably been told; but had shut it out beyond ‘kidnapping’ in his haste to arrive at the scene.

It also occurred to him that his son in law was currently in the chaos outside with his granddaughters.  
  
Stephen cleared his throat and watched as five heads snapped around in his direction. He raised a hand in a gentle greeting.  
  
"I'm Detective Castro," he said softly. "I'm the lead on your son's case."  
  
"Thank God," the mother answered. "I'm Denise. That's my husband Paul and our sons, Frankie," the youngest. "Nick and Joe," she added pointing at the two teens on the couch and Stephen was certain he had his grandfatherly information correct when he guessed Joe was the one without the curly hair.

Emma had a crush on that one.  
  
"Ma'am," he said nodding at her. "I just want to run a few things down with you and make sure I have them straight before I get into any new questions."  
  
"Of course Detective," Paul said sounding slightly calmer then he looked. Stephen, as a father himself, could tell it was a forced and very false calm put in place to protect his family.  
  
"You first noticed Kevin was missing at 5:20 this evening?"  
  
"Yes. It was approximately ten minutes before the meet and greet was supposed to begin," Paul clarified and Stephen made a more detailed note. “Meet and greet at five-thirty. That’s usually about an hour. Doors at six-fifteen. Lockdown at seven and the boys go on at eight,” he continued, outlining what the evening should have been.  
  
"So you went outside with Mr. Colletti when you realized Kevin was potentially going to be late?” Stephen prodded, trying to get back onto the track he had initially headed down.  
  
"Yes, Mike, umm, that's Mr. Colletti's first name, went outside with me because Joe told us that Kevin had gone out approximately twenty minutes to a half hour earlier to call his girlfriend Danielle. Mike had also had a similar conversation with the boy’s bass player, so we weren’t expecting much else."  
  
"Ok," Stephen said nodding. "Has anyone spoken with this girlfriend?"  
  
"I did," one of the brothers, Nick, Stephen reminded himself, spoke up. "She said she only talked to Kevin for a few minutes at about ten to five. He told her he was just checking in since he had been running behind all day so he couldn’t really talk then. He was just letting her know he was going to call her after the show but he had to get back inside quick. She's in Los Angeles right now by the way."  
  
Stephen nodded, "We didn't suspect her of anything. I'm just trying to get an accurate timeline of the evening. So, from approximately, we'll say, five to five and five-twenty this evening is when this occurred. Ok."  
  
Stephen continued to stare at his pad, specifically at the name he had scribbled near the bottom of the page when he had spoken with Chad Parker of the Crime Scene Unit upon his arrival.  
  
"Does the name Harper Reid mean anything to any of you?" he finally asked and met five blank faces.  
  
"No. Why?" Mr. Jonas asked confused. "What does he have to do with my son? Is that who took Kevin?"  
  
"It's a she actually," Stephen corrected. "And I genuinely do not believe that she had anything to do with Kevin’s abduction. One of my officers found two bags stuffed behind a dumpster about five feet away from where your son’s phone was found and maybe ten feet from where the bodily fluids were located. One of the bags had camera equipment in it."  
  
"A photographer?" Mrs. Jonas questioned looking even more confused; but, before Stephen could answer her the door to the green room opened and a woman poked her head in.  
  
"I'm so sorry to interrupt," she said sounding as upset as the rest of the family. "I just wanted to let you know that everything with the concert has been taken care of."  
  
"Thanks Felicia," Paul said quietly. "Can you take Frankie with you please? He doesn't need to hear this."  
  
"Of course," she said. "Come on Tank. Let's go get something to eat.  
  
The younger boy looked around and must have realized he wouldn't win any argument, based off his parent’s expressions, so he simply got up and walked out of the room with his brother's assistant.  
  
"Actually yes, we’re fairly certain she is a photographer. There was an envelope from the venue with instructions for photographers of the show and press credentials from the State University of New York at Oneonta. She's the photo editor for the college paper according to those; but, they're also outdated by at least a year," he elaborated. "Her license says she's twenty-two and lives in a town in New York. We thought based on her age, where she lives and where her bags were located that she knew your son. And that’s why she was back there."  
  
"I’ve never heard of her in my life,” Denise replied looking troubled. “But lots of the fans travel for the shows," she continued. "As to why she was back there – your guess is as good as mine. I can just tell you she shouldn’t have been."  
  
Stephen inhaled, nodded and continued staring at the pad and the notes that he had made next to Harper's name before speaking, "The crime scene unit found two more blood deposits around the corner of the venue near where the barricade is. They were much smaller. There was hair in one of them."  
  
Stephen stared at them carefully and allowed that to sink in before he continued, "We, again, do not think they were from your son. The hair was very long and from the pieces that weren't covered in blood the CSU's could tell they were a reddish-brown color. They most definitely match to a naked eye view of Ms. Reid based on license photo and this one," he told them holding up the photo he had removed from her wallet and placed in an evidence bag.  
  
Two girls, both around his son’s ages, stood in front of a Christmas tree in someone’s living room. The older looking girl had long auburn hair and was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. The younger, a blonde, was wearing a sweater and skirt. Both were smiling – matching smiles – and looked like they didn’t have a care in the world.  
  
"So what are you saying?" Mrs. Jonas asked with a shaking voice as though she had already figured it out.  
  
"I think your son isn't the only person who was taken tonight and I need to find out who Harper Reid is and quickly before she becomes a liability to the people that took your son rather than an asset," he explained carefully. "Your son, to be perfectly frank, is worth something to whoever these people are. He's worth money. I'm not trying to trivialize the crime; but, it does make the timeline to find Kevin a little less rapid. If they feel they can ransom him then he’ll be kept in good condition for as long as it takes. But, now that you’ve confirmed for me that Ms. Reid is in no way connected to your family; then, as far as I can tell from the contents of her bags on first glance, she's a just college aged photographer. Maybe she’s a big fan who just snuck around back to try and gets some candid shots of your boys. Nothing truly heinous; even if it’s a little invasive. But it obviously put her in the wrong place at the wrong time and judging by the amount of blood we found with what appears to be her hair she's the one that was injured during whatever went down."  
  
Denise covered her mouth and choked down a sob as all the facts were laid out bare for her, "Oh God, did someone contact her parents?"  
  
"We're working on tracking them down now."  
  
"Okay? Call me crazy," Joe said suddenly. "But you said she's a photographer...and her things were stashed behind the dumpster. Did anyone check her camera?"  
  
Stephen chuckled darkly and turned to the teen on the couch and said simply, "I think you're in the wrong line of work kid."  
  
Stephen pulled out his radio and hit a button, "CSU?"  
  
"Go for CSU. This is Parker."  
  
"Parker, it's Castro. Did your boys take Ms. Reid's things back to the lab?"  
  
"Yea, they just left."  
  
"Tell them to get on that camera stat. I want to know every single thing she took a picture of today. I don't care if she took a picture of a dog taking a shit. She might have gotten a shot of the perps."  
  
"Got it boss," Parker replied. "Parker out."  
  
Stephen put the radio back in his pocket and shook his head, "I'm sure they woulda done that first anyway, I'm just pissed I didn't think of it sooner. I woulda liked to take a look at them right now."  
  
Stephen's radio beeped again, and he answered, "Go for Castro."  
  
"We got her parents number using DMV records. Maureen and Martin Reid according to the computer. Do you want it?"  
  
"Yea," Stephen trailed off and held up a finger in a "one moment" gesture as he walked out of the room scribbling the information onto his pad. Signing off the radio Stephen walked to the only empty room he could find, a bathroom, took out his phone and slowly dialed the numbers in front of him.  
  
"Hello?" a woman's voice answered.  
  
"Mrs. Reid?" Stephen asked cautiously.  
  
"Yes, who is this?”  
  
Stephen took a deep breath, he despised this part of his job, "Mrs. Reid, my name is Detective Stephen Castro. I'm with the Philadelphia Police Department. There may be a situation involving your daughter Harper."  
  
Silence met Stephen's explanation before a male voice picked up, "Hello?"  
  
"Mr. Reid?"  
  
"Yes, who's this. My wife just handed the phone to me and started crying," the man stated sounding nervous.  
  
Stephen once again explained what he had told Mrs. Reid and this time received a response, "What happened to Harper?"  
  
"I'm not sure Mr. Reid. I'm going to be honest with you. Kevin Jonas is missing and we found evidence that your daughter was nearby where he disappeared from. Considering that we can’t locate her we’re concerned about her whereabouts."  
  
"I'm confused," Martin Reid said sounding dazed. “What kind of evidence?”  
  
"Her purse and camera bag,” he elaborated, leaving out the part about the blood while on the phone. “We believe Mr. Jonas and your daughter were kidnapped from behind the venue earlier this evening. All logic points to Mr. Jonas being the intended target; but since we found your daughter’s equipment nearby, and it doesn’t seem like something she would just leave behind a dumpster, that she was also removed from the scene at the same time."

“There aren’t any cameras outside that damn venue?!” Martin Reid snapped. “Because that’s a lot of supposition and not a lot of facts Detective.”

Stephen sighed, mostly because he agreed with the man, and replied calmly, “They, for some reason unknown to venue management, aren’t working currently. I’m very sorry I can’t give you a better answer then that right now. Believe me, it’s one of the things we’re investigating. But unfortunately, it’s also not a requirement for the building.”

“There has to be a mistake; yes, Harper would never leave her cameras lying around. But, she was also planning on staying at the Marriott tonight. Maybe that’s why you can’t find her?” Martin asked, obviously reaching for any other explanation.

“We will certain send someone over there to see if she’s checked in,” Stephen agreed, thankful for the extra information. “But,” he continued quietly. “Mr. Reid, I’ll be honest. Part of the evidence we found indicates your daughter may have been injured. We don’t think severely, but injured none the less. I honestly do not think she’s in the area anymore.”  
  
"We can be in Philadelphia in three hours," Harper's father told Stephen in response to that explanation.  
  
"Actually, you can’t. We're setting up road blocks. We do that with any kidnapping regardless of the age of the victims,” Stephen corrected. “I'm going to have one of the Sergeants in my department call you as soon as we get off the phone. They will then make arrangements with you for air travel to the city. I believe, based on the town, you’re on Long Island?"  
  
"Yes," Martin agreed and Stephen wordlessly nodded. “We’re in Nassau County; but MacArthur would be still quicker to get to then heading into Queens for a flight.”  
  
"Ok. I’ll pass that along when I call the station so they can start arrangements as they contact you. Now, Mr. Reid, I want you to know that in almost forty years I've never lost someone. I don't intend on it now."  
  
"Thank you Detective," Martin said sounding marginally calmer. "Just find my baby."  
  
"We're trying. Oh and Mr. Reid?"  
  
"Call me Martin. And yes?"  
  
"What type of car does your daughter drive?"  
  
"It's a black 1999 Camry. She has a vanity plate on it. It says Flashbulb."  
  
"Thank you. We got her keys from the purse; but, we didn't know which car in the lot they belonged to. I'll speak with you soon."  
  
"Thank you Detective," Martin said quietly and hung up the phone.  
  
Stephen hung up the phone slowly one his end and stared at his reflection in the mirror, "Get it together Castro. You are not retiring on corpses. You're going to find these kids."  
  
He quickly called the desk sergeant at his precinct and asked him to help facilitate any arrangements the Reid family needed to get to Philadelphia as soon as they could. After that, he finally turned and walked out of the room and back into the green room where the Jonas family was waiting.  
  
"Did you talk to her parents?" Denise asked quietly and Stephen nodded.  
  
"Yes, they'll be on their way down from New York soon."  
  
"What now?" Paul asked staring at the detective. At the question Stephen realized he had lied to himself a few minutes ago when he said he despised the part about notifying the parents. He merely hated that part.  
  
This was the part he despised.  
  
"Now?" he began with a heavy tone. "Now, we wait. The ball's in their court and not to be crass, but they just began the most important game of chess any of us will ever play in our lives."


	3. Chapter Three: Arrival

The first sensation Harper felt upon awakening was dull pain in her shoulder and a stabbing, nausea inducing, pain in her head. The next was a subtle vibration throughout her entire body. It was that second feeling that brought, mostly, everything back in startling clarity. Well, mostly as in she remembered hitting her head…somehow.

Blinking her eyes open, Harper looked straight up and groggily took in a pair of concerned eyes set in a shadowy face inches away from her own. Her first instinct was to pull back; but that only pushed her head into something, surprisingly, soft – while sending a screaming pain throughout her upper body again.

She groaned in response and tried to refocus her eyes in the dark, blinking up at the person who was still leaning over her. She also realized that the very vague face shape was about all she could make out in the pitch black of wherever she was. Wincing the pain that was ramping up from her shoulder and into her head Harper closed her eyes again, trying to stop the sharp jolts going through her eyes; but, stiffened when she felt someone's hand take her left hand in theirs.  
  
"Stay awake please," a soft voice near pleaded at Harper, breaking the silence in the dark room.  
  
Forcing her eyes open through her exhaustion and pain again Harper once again met the gaze of the person above her. She felt herself growing frustrated at her lack of knowledge as to what exactly had happened beyond hitting her head and how she wound up in this room in so much pain.  
  
"What happened?" she whispered furrowing her brow and trying to look around; groaning at the pain just moving her neck muscles while talking sent ripping through her.  
  
"Don't move ok?" the voice said again; and Harper once again met the eyes that looked concerned, but also as petrified as she felt.  
  
"What happened?" Harper repeated as she felt the haze start to slowly lift the longer she was awake.  
  
"I don't know how you got in here with me; but, I was grabbed by some guys outside of my concert. I could have gone the rest of my life without knowing what chloroform smelt like," the shadowy face said and with that sentence everything slammed home into Harper's mind and she wished she was blacked out again.  
  
"Kevin Jonas?" she asked as she finally remembered exactly how she wound up in this, not vibrating room, but in this truck with him.  
  
"Yes. Who are you?"  
  
"Harper Reid. I was there when you were grabbed, sort of. Why am I in your lap?" Harper finally asked as she realized why her head was so much softer than the rest of her body.  
  
"I didn't think you should be jostled around. And every time they turned or sped up your head flopped around. You've got a pretty big goose egg on the back of your head and your hair feels like it's matted with blood. Plus your arm is definitely dislocated," Kevin explained quietly. “I thought you were dead at first.”  
  
"Yea, it definitely is…and I’m in too much pain to be dead," Harper said and felt a chill go through her body. Kevin gathered the blankets tighter around their bodies as he felt her begin to shiver harder. The involuntary movement also caused her to move her arm and the dull pain went away, immediately transformed into a fire ripping down the entire side of her body, centralized in her neck.  
  
Harper involuntarily screamed and once again blacked out.  
  
"Harper?" Kevin whispered and sighed when he realized she was out cold again.  
  
This was the third time the girl had woken up and he had been relieved that this time she had remembered her name and who he was and how she got there. Unlike the other two times when she had fought him in terror. Kevin lightly touched the scratch that ran down his cheek from her fingernails as a result of the first time she had woken up, however long ago that was.  
  
He gently readjusted Harper in his lap so his legs could regain some circulation and looked down at her face in confusion. She knew who he was and the words she had spoken, "I was there when you were grabbed", resonated with him. Was she a fan? Did she work for the venue? He had been nearly certain he was alone outside at the time.

Shaking the thought off he realized didn’t really matter in the long run. All that mattered was that she was incredibly injured, and they were in some sort of vehicle and had been for what felt like hours. Pulling the blankets tighter around them Kevin made sure Harper was completely wrapped up before he forced himself to try and sleep in an attempt to keep any strength up.  
  
Kevin realized quickly that was futile, his nerves were entirely shot as he sighed in exhaustion, leaned his head back against the wall and thought back on what he remembered not for the first time since he woke up.  
  
 _"Hey kid!"  
  
Kevin looked up from his cell phone as the men got out of the truck that had just pulled up.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Kevin Jonas right?"  
  
"Yes," Kevin said carefully looking over the truck for an indication of what was being delivered so late. And trying to figure out why they were speaking to him by name. "Can I help you?"  
  
"Actually yes," the older man replied again and cracked his knuckles. "You're going to help us very nicely. Where are your brothers anyway?"  
  
Kevin turned to go inside quickly and watched in shock as a hand pulled the brick inside, causing the door to slam shut. Before he could do anything else, like scream, he felt a hand smack his cell phone out of his hand and an arm wrap around his neck. Another hand with a rag slapped over his mouth and all he remembered was blackness._

_A sudden jolt stirred Kevin awake and he groggily, and slightly confusedly, pulled Danielle closer; intent on letting the subtle rocking of the bus send him back to sleep, all the while cursing bus travel._

_A few seconds later, he realized why those were strange thoughts – they weren’t on a bus tour. And his girlfriend was in California since she didn’t feel like flying back east for only two days in the middle of her own vacation. Despite the show that they had scheduled in Philly – these two weeks were the only ones she could get off from work and they had just decided to work around it. She had reminded him she was a grown ass woman who could entertain herself for forty-eight hours._

_So, what the hell had happened?_

_Kevin blinked into the darkness, trying to let his eyes adjust quicker and registered the form he was wrapped around. And the fact that multiple thin blankets were keeping them wrapped together. In front of Kevin was a girl, more of a woman he realized as he looked closer at her face. She was around his age and his first thought was that she was quite beautiful. His next thought was that her lip probably shouldn’t be split open. And her arm probably shouldn’t be able to bed backwards like it was.  
  
Kevin slowly pushed himself into a seated position, tugging at the blankets to allow for some form of movement and then squinted further – trying to look around. The truck they were in the back of, and Kevin was certain it was a truck, from what he could see was pitch black and completely empty other than himself, the girl and the crappy blankets._

_The truck, at that moment, hit a large bump and Kevin watched horrified as the girl was literally flipped over and landed on top of the strangely bent arm. An unconscious scream ripped from her throat and he watched her eyes snap open._

_Immediately Kevin scrambled back over the few inches he had moved away so he was back at her side trying to calm her down; but, one glance in her eyes and he realized she was obviously not comprehending anything. Then before he could duck her good arm flew out and scratched right down the side of his face. A sharp stinging sensation followed and before Kevin could really process it the girl was unconscious again. He frowned slightly; he had been scared when he woke up, still was, but he hadn’t been that disoriented. Carefully reaching out, he ran his hand around her skull as gently as possible and then froze - a knot the size of a golf ball sat on the back of her head and Kevin was fairly certain he could feel a cut on the skin as well, which was confirmed by the flat, hard and matted hair that was falling out of her pony tail.  
  
Deliberately Kevin positioned himself, leaning back slightly against the wall of the truck, and then slowly and methodically arranged the girl with the back of her head on his stomach and her shoulders in his lap; so her upper body was immobile. He couldn’t do anything about her lower body; but he figured her head and neck were more important in the long run then whether her legs were sore from being sprawled out strangely.  
  
The girl woke up one more time; thankfully, it wasn't nearly as bad as the first. That time Kevin managed to keep her as immobile as possible only she still didn't seem cognizant of their situation. She just kept telling Kevin, referring to him as Dad, that it was too early to get up as he tried to talk her into waking up fully.  
  
"Maybe it's better that way," Kevin had whispered to himself and pushed the girls hair off her forehead.  
  
Looking down at the girl one more time Kevin again wondered who she was and why she was there and finally decided after what felt like hours had passed, it didn't matter. He didn't even know exactly why he was there; though, he had a few guesses. All he knew was that she was hurt and right then she needed him. And he didn’t hate that he wasn’t alone either._  
  
Kevin opened his eyes and glanced down at Harper nervous about the fact that she hadn't moved since she blacked out again. Her breathing didn't sound labored to his untrained ear; but Joe had fallen over or off enough objects as a kid that he knew a huge lump on the back of her head and unfocused pupils were all the key signs to screaming lecture from their mother.

So while he didn't know how bad the concussion he was sure she had exactly was; he was terrified she was going to just stop breathing from some massive brain bleed or something. Closing his eyes Kevin rested a hand on Harper's forehead, another attempt at keeping her head still, and began praying softly both for her and for himself finally letting sheer emotional exhaustion pull him under.

* * *

  
Kevin was startled out of his sleep, an unknown amount of time later, by movement in his lap.

Looking down he met Harper's eyes again and was happily surprised, “You’re awake?”  
  
"Yea, I didn't mean to wake you," she said softly and he felt her grip tighten on the hand he had never taken back earlier.  
  
"No, I'm glad you did. How's your arm?" he questioned, relieved that she finally sounded fully coherent.  
  
"It's numb again. If I don't move it I think I'll be ok," she told him honestly, rolling her eyes up to meet his own due to the awkward angle they were positioned in.  
  
"We need to pop it back in," Kevin said biting his lip.  
  
"Do you know how to do that? Because I don't," Harper pointed out.  
  
"No...I don't," Kevin muttered.  
  
"Alright, then we'll have to wait," she said and Kevin could hear the pain in her voice, as she relaxed further back into his body, visibly wincing at the movement.  
  
"How's your head?"  
  
"Throbbing but there's no shooting pain anymore. Is it still bleeding?"  
  
"I didn't notice anything on my clothes so i don't think so," he answered, stretching his neck downward so he could get his face a bit closer to see her better in the dark.  
  
"Where are we?"  
  
"In a truck," Kevin said certainly. "That much I figured out. I have no way of telling how long we've been driving though because I was unconscious and you've been in and out with pretty big time breaks in between."  
  
"I was awake before?"  
  
"Yea, three times. But you were pretty out of it."  
  
"Oh. I think I remember one of them?"  
  
"Yea; you talked to me last time. Said you were there when I was grabbed, but didn’t give much detail. Which brings me back to my question from earlier, how did you get here?"  
  
"I tried to save you," Harper stated. "It obviously didn't work," she added, a cynical laugh following.  
  
"Obviously," Kevin remarked with dry sarcasm. As he looked down again when she didn’t say anything else and saw that her eyes had drifted shut. "Harper!" he shouted.  
  
"What?" her eyes snapped open quickly, darting around, and she looked terrified.  
  
"You need to stay awake. You were asleep for way too long after hitting your head."  
  
"I'm really tired Kevin," she whispered, nearly whining, and he grimaced.  
  
"I know you are, but you need to stay awake. You could have a brain bleed," he told her seriously. "Actually, maybe you should sit up," he pondered, more to himself then directly at the girl.  
  
"A brain bleed?" she asked him, incredulously, and groaned when she felt him start to pull her further up his chest, so she was sitting instead of reclining – still basically incapable of her own movement.  
  
"Yes. A brain bleed," he replied; his voice, now, coming from behind her head instead of above it. "I watch ER. You hit your head and you could be bleeding into your skull."  
  
Kevin immediately thought she had passed out again when she didn’t reply to that and was about to prod her awake again when she groaned, bringing her good hand up to cover her face and muttered, "Great, he's an NBC accredited surgeon now.”

There was more silence for a few moments, and that’s when Kevin frowned because he could feel her upper body slightly making a straight movement.  
  
"Are you ok?" he whispered next to her ear. Harper merely shook her head very gently. "What's wrong?"  
  
"The sitting up is making me nauseous," she replied with a tremor in her voice and the movement going through her body again. He realized then that she was repeatedly swallowing like she was choking something back.  
  
"Ok," Kevin replied nervously. He really didn't think lying down was a good idea – but had no desire to be thrown up on either. "Listen, I really do think you need to stay upright. I'm going to hold you like this and support your weight, so you don't bang your arm. If the nausea gets to the point that you’re actually going to get sick then let me know then ok? We’ll, I dunno, lean to the left and hope for the best.”  
  
Harper nodded and turned her head so she was looking back at Kevin on an angle, "Why are you being so nice to me?"  
  
"Well, apparently you tried to save me and got yourself stuck in this situation. I figured it's my turn."  
  
"True,” she agreed. “I kinda wish you hadn’t done such a great damsel in distress impression.”

“You and me both,” Kevin mumbled back, not that embarrassed. Mostly as he remembered how big the guy who grabbed him was.

“So what did they say to you anyway?"  
  
"What do you mean?" he asked, confused.  
  
"I was hiding behind the dumpster taking pictures Kevin," she informed him. "I saw them drive up and they were talking to you. I couldn't hear them. Just wondering if you’ve got any insight as to what they want."  
  
"Oh," he replied and thought back. "It wasn't really anything. They asked if I was Kevin Jonas and then they asked where my brothers were. I thought that was weird so I went to go inside and you saw the rest. As to what they want? Three guesses – first two don’t count."  
  
"Money, money and money?” she responded, rolling her eyes slightly. “Yea, I was confused when I saw them back there; they were in a diner nearby earlier and at that time were not dressed like delivery guys. I took a bunch of pictures of them, then I saw you get grabbed so I ran to try and get help. They saw me. And here I am."  
  
"Brilliant move on your part,” he responded sarcastically. “Why didn't you wait til after they were gone to get help and show someone the pictures? How are they going to find your camera? Hell, how do we know they didn’t find your camera?”  
  
"Oh yea, you’re welcome," Harper muttered into his neck from where her head was turned. She had figured out quickly into the course of their conversation that if she was looking at him, or in this case part of him, rather than the empty darkness in the moving vehicle she was a little less nauseous because she had a focal point. “They won’t find my camera. I stuff the bags under the dumpster and it was getting dark. But cops tend to look everywhere. Fingers crossed.”  
  
"Sorry, you're right. Thank you," Kevin blushed at her admonishment and tried to apologize.  
  
Harper frowned and spoke after the few minutes of silence that followed, "You know, when I saw them at the diner earlier in the day. They had pictures of you guys. Really high-quality pictures. I didn’t get a great look at them, but thinking back – they were, well, candid shots. I thought they were from a telephoto lens, but they could have just been taken literally close up too."  
  
"That's weird. We’ve only got one photographer on staff," Kevin mumbled, obviously thinking.  
  
"Unless...maybe they're just hired guns?" Harper pointed out and Kevin stiffened. "I mean, you might only have one photographer on staff, but that doesn’t mean no one around you uses a camera in general does it?"  
  
"Umm, well, no of course not," he responded sounding slightly exasperated. “That would be ridiculous. But you said they were pictures of us. Specifically.”

“I said they were high-quality. And I thought they were paparazzi types of pictures. You and your brothers were like, at the beach and out to eat and stuff. So I thought it was just wireimage or TMZ pictures.”

“Could have been,” Kevin agreed. “However they got the pictures doesn’t really matter. We’re not going to solve that mystery from a truck. That’s for the cops to do. So perhaps you could focus on our current predicament instead of turning into Sherlock Holmes.”  
  
"You deal in your way I'll deal in mine. If it makes you feel better, I'm petrified."  
  
"It does, a little, thank you," Kevin said and took a deep breath. "But I’m still pretty sure that ‘my way’ as you put it, focusing on keeping us alive, is more important right now. So, what are we going to do?”  
  
"I don't know," Harper said bluntly, but near silently, and Kevin had to strain to hear her.  
  
A few minutes later he tightened his grip around her waist, pulling her in tighter in a mimicry of a hug, and softly stroked her hair as broke down with a sob and the tears finally started and silently let his own go as well until they both drifted off to a more restful sleep not being able to fight it anymore.

* * *

  
A blinding light woke them both sometime later.  
  
"Awe, isn't this cute?" the voice that Harper vaguely recognized as belonging to the man she had bitten stated.

She would never forget that voice even with a massive head injury.  
  
Harper felt Kevin tighten his muscles up behind her while loosening his grip around her waist. All she could picture as a result of those two movements from Kevin was the boy suddenly leaping at the four much larger men and getting himself killed. Blearily she tried to see through the blinding daylight that had invaded their pitch black space; while gripping his hand in hers as a warning not to do anything stupid.  
  
"Stop playing with them and get them up," Harper finally was able to see clearly and spotted the oldest of the men, Paulie, barking at Older Brother.  
  
"You heard the man, get up."  
  
Harper felt Kevin tighten his grip on her again as he slowly stood, pulling her up from a grip around her waist to support her weight without using her arm. The pain of moving, any part of her body, caused her legs to buckle underneath her nearly pulling the taller male down too. In a surprising show of dexterity and strength, she was shocked when instead of falling he stopped himself and simultaneously swung her into his arms, keeping her left, injured, arm on the outside of his body so she was able to toss her right one over his shoulder and act as a balance.  
  
"Act really really hurt," he hissed in her ear and Harper nodded before resting her head against his shoulder. It wasn't going to be that difficult an act.  
  
As Kevin carefully, but skillfully, climbed down the ramp someone had rested against the truck as an easier way down both he and Harper looked around and felt their hopes die completely.

They were surrounded standing at the end of a gravel driveway, on top of a steep hill, in front of an old three-story log cabin that had seen better days. On the left border of the house, down the hill Harper could see a large creek – at least seven feet wide to the other bank with its water rushing very quickly over ice covered rocks. All around the large field of a hill the house sat on was trees of all types. Most were missing their leaves, but that just made the various conifer trees look even larger, darker and thicker. It was what surrounded the property in the not so far distance that really threw the two young adults – mountains. Tall enough that the cloud cover blocked the peaks from any ground view.  
  
It was a nature fanatic’s paradise. Or hell on earth for anyone trying to get away from it in the middle of winter.  
  
"Welcome to the Great Smokies kids," Paulie said laughing. "You're not in the big city anymore."  
  
Harper groaned, dropping her head back into Kevin's neck and heard him whisper a curse under his breath. She finally recognized the accent these people had. It was southern, but not the stereotypical type what you would hear in movies.

That combined with the reference Harper at least concluded they were in Tennessee – if they were in North Carolina, where that mountain range also stretched, the accents would be drawling.  
  
Harper looked up again, to once more take in the futility of running; and, as a result she met a surprising sight. Standing in the group of men across from them was a pair of kind eyes set in a young face. She blearily remembered hearing a fourth voice before she was knocked out, and that there had been a driver, she hadn’t fully seen, in the truck.

She wondered if this was him.

* * *

  
"Randy, take them in and get them locked up in the attic. Remember what I said about tonight," Paulie barked, knowing the two had no way of fighting the situation. Harper and Kevin watched as the fourth man waved tiredly at the house and gestured for them to follow him. Kevin cautiously stepped forward; cutting a wide berth around the other three men as he followed Randy across the dead grass and up the porch stairs to the front door of the cabin.

Harper observed her surroundings, from her spot in Kevin’s arms, and began looking for any type of advantage in the house. The front door opened into a large room that appeared to be a combination of entry way and dining room and there was an open landing above them that she could see doors leading off of. Underneath the landing, in another room that looked as though it might be lower then where they stood currently, seemed to be a living room. There were closed sliding doors to their left and right as well.  
  
"Just take the stairs there," Randy said to them in a surprisingly soft voice, gesturing towards the wide wooden staircase on the right side of the front room, leading up to the landing above.  
  
Kevin began carefully walking up, adjusting his hold on Harper a few times, and stopped when he reached the lofted area. She could see that the doors, being closer now, were mostly open and furnished as four bedrooms, a bathroom and one was a storm door that looked like it led out onto a balcony off the back of the house.

“Come on,” Randy interrupted her musings; this time sounding a bit impatient. While the two were taking in their surroundings he had been unlocking a door at the far right end of the upstairs hallway and was pointing them towards another set of stairs.

These were barely wide enough to fit one person at a time. A sickly yellow bare bulb was hanging above them giving only enough illumination to show the bottom three steps.

“I’m going to have to put you down,” Kevin whispered as they reached the door to the attic stairs. “Think you can talk if you hold onto me from behind like a crutch?”

“I don’t really have a choice,” she replied and tightened her hold on his shoulder as crouched slightly to put both her feet down at once. Waiting a few seconds until she began straightening her own body, under her own power, before letting go of her completely. “I feel like a toddler,” she grumbled, eying the way he held his hands out on both sides of her, without touching, like he was waiting for her to fall on her ass.  
  
“You good?” Randy asked her, looking slightly concerned and Harper only nodded in response.

The older male began walking up the rickety stairs. Kevin gave her a pointed look and tugged on the back of his own shirt when she didn’t do anything but eye the stairs nervously. She merely shook her head and replied to his unspoken question, “If I fall on these and I’m holding your shirt? We’re both going down. One of us needs to be as functional as possible right now. I’ll be fine. Go.”

“Harper,” Kevin began and stopped when she gave him a furious look.  
  
“I’ll be fine. Go I said,” she snapped, now annoyed.

“Fine,” he shot back, rolling his eyes and almost stomping after Randy, leaving Harper to lean her right arm against the wall tightly as a brace since there was no railing on the incredibly dark and narrow stairs.

She was surprised to find there were only six stairs; but, they were honestly more like a ladder due to how steep they were. So, despite her growing annoyance, at her inability to be useful at the moment, she was grateful when she felt Kevin’s arm slip back around her waist to help her get up into the attic room.

Both men were standing partially hunched over, which didn’t surprise Harper when she realized that the ceiling was brushing the top of her head. She was only five-foot-four inches – so it was a very low ceiling. There was more light up here and she could see a light switch sitting on a post nearby; the room illuminated by three matches to the bulb at the bottom of the stairs.

“This is a crawl space,” she pointed out to the man with them, gauging that he wasn’t going to strike out on a whim based on his behavior so far. The room might have run the length of the house – but it was short in height and slanted to follow the roof line.

“There’s a bit more space in your room, it’s on top of the extension from the original design,” he explained with a shrug and began walking the length of the house – this time towards the left side. He stopped at a wall with a single heavy looking solid wood door in the center of it. There were, to Harper’s dismay, at least five key padlocks on it.  
  
Randy opened all five, with five different keys, and pointed inside for them to go through. Thankfully the door was normal sized, and Kevin was able to help Harper into another pitch black room.

  
"So, this is it," Randy said quietly. "I'm sorry it's not more."  
  
Kevin snorted at the statement and replied sarcastically, “Well if we could see a single thing maybe we could comment on our accommodations.”  
  
"You’ll figure something out,” Randy replied with a shrug and then added, “I really am sorry.”  
  
"Well, your apology is a little hollow. Call the cops if you're really that sorry," Kevin hissed and stepped forward realizing he had a good six inches on the other man. Harper's hand on his stopped him.  
  
"Don't be stupid Kevin," she whispered as quietly as possible. The man in front of them might have been nicer then the other three; but he had still participated in a kidnapping.  
  
Kevin stopped because he realized she was right. He took a moment and then spoke, "Listen, fine, we’ll figure something out about the absolutely freezing cold dark attic room. But, do you know how to fix a dislocated shoulder? Because, she's going to cause some real damage if that isn't fixed soon. If that hasn’t happened already.”  
  
"I actually do. But I’ll need your help," Randy said and placed the backpack Harper just noticed he had been carrying down. Opening it up he pulled out a first aid kit and placed it on the floor inside the room right next to the door. "Let's get to work shall we?" he added, standing up from where he had leaned over.  
  
Kevin nodded and helped Harper sit down on the floor when Randy said to, using the little light from the outside room to see what he was doing.  
  
"This is going to to hurt," Randy said. "What's your name anyway?"  
  
"Harper," she said simply and he nodded.  
  
"Ok Harper, I need you to sit up as straight as possible on the floor and Kevin's going to provide counter leverage for me," Randy instructed and demonstrated how he needed Kevin to keep her still by bracing her good arm and her waist. "Take a deep breath," he whispered and then Harper screamed as he moved her arm in an arch.  
  
The scream cut short however when the pain stopped.  
  
"Wow," she muttered. "Thanks," she added sincerely.  
  
Randy nodded and reached into the backpack again, taking out what looked in the bad lighting to be a wide scarf, quickly fashioning a sling and getting Harper’s arm positioned, “Now, do not to move it. There should be some Advil in the first aid kit to use as an anti-inflammatory. I picked it up and stocked it at a pharmacy during a pit stop down here. He’s not wrong about potential nerve damage; I’m hoping the cold prevented as much of that as possible.”  
  
Harper nodded slowly, fairly horrified as she hadn’t known that was a possiblity and watched as he seemed to be thinking about something else.  
  
"I know you said my apology isn’t worth much. And you’re right,” Randy finally broke the silence that had fallen over the trio. “But I genuinely didn’t know this was what they, we, were doing. And when I realized? It was already too late. Now get some sleep.”  
  
"What are their names?" Harper finally asked Randy, seconds later as he was leaving the room and about to close up the door.  
  
"Who?"  
  
Harper merely glared at the man through the darkness.  
  
"They're my brothers, well, Pete and Michael are. Pete's the one who's hand you destroyed and Michael's the other one. Paulie and Pete are business partners of some sort," he told them. "I just had to drive a truck," he added cynically.  
  
Harper nodded, "Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome. I guess," Randy replied with a shrug. “Get some sleep. I’ll get you some food soon.”  
  
Kevin's stomach grumbled at the thought of food and Randy's face tightened.  
  
"I'll get it as soon as I can,” the older man assured. “But, I have to wait til Paulie decides."  
  
The two young adults nodded and watched as he closed the door once again sealing them in pitch black darkness as the attic room definitely had no windows or lights that they could tell.  
  
"Kevin?" Harper asked holding a handout in the direction she had last seen him sitting next to her.  
  
"I'm here," he answered and shuffled a few inches closer until his knees knocked into hers.  
  
"This is worse than I thought," she told him and winced when she felt his fingers prodding the back of her head. “I didn’t expect middle of fucking nowhere. Like, for real middle of nowhere. I’m from the suburbs; I didn’t know middle of nowhere actually existed.”  
  
"I know," he muttered in agreement. "I'd really love some light right now. I can't see to clean this," changing the subject to avoid any panic at the moment.  
  
"My head's fine and that isn't what I meant," she said and tried to yank her head back when he touched it again.  
  
"It's really bad Harper, it's not fine. I need to clean it. Let me get that done first please?"  
  
"Fine," she said resigned and winced as he pulled her pony tail out of it's holder and ran his fingers through her hair gently, untangling what he could.

  
"Sorry," he muttered. “Stay here,” Kevin added and crawled away, so as not to trip, leaving Harper to roll her eyes and wonder where she was going to go.

Kevin was back a few seconds later based on the sounds of his movement along the floor, followed by the sound of a zipper and then hands back in her hair.  
  
"How are you going to do this anyway? And how can you see in here?"  
  
"It looks like there’s gauze pads, alcohol wipes, some kind of ointment and an ace bandage," he told her. "And I can see just barely, but my eyes are adjusting pretty quick. I'm used to wandering around a pitch-black stage remember?"  
  
"True," she whispered and flinched as the alcohol wipe touched the back of her skull. The duo sat in silence as Kevin slowly prodded through the items in the case, occasionally holding something up close to his face, and worked on dressing the wound on the back of her skull. "I'm scared Kevin," she finally said as he finished securing the ace bandage around her head.  
  
"Me too," he agreed.  
  
"But seriously – I repeat we're in the middle of nowhere and not only that, but they were able to get us this far without anyone catching them. Randy said they even made pit stops. How is that even possible?!"  
  
"I don’t know," Kevin whispered, sounding almost numb, and Harper’s eyes had adjusted enough now to watch him methodically put everything back in the first aid kit.  
  
"Do you think we're going to get out of this?" she asked him, just as out of it as it was apparent Kevin was becoming.  
  
Kevin froze in his movements at her question, meeting her eyes in the dark, and responded honestly, “I don’t know.”  
  
Harper nodded and eyed his shadowy form sitting next to her on the floor.

"At least we're not alone right?" she said falsely cheerful.  
  
"Yea," Kevin replied quietly and took her good hand in his, squeezing tightly, eyes squinting at something across the room. “Wait here.”  
  
"Wha?" Harper began and then squeaked out, “Where are you going now? There’s nowhere to go.”

“Randy said we’d figure it out,” Kevin began, having stood up and Harper watched as he faded out a bit the further he moved away from her. She could sort of see him placing his hands on the door, moving them along the wall and quickly figured out he was taking in the dimensions of the room. It must have been larger then either of them thought because he disappeared fairly quickly and she equated that to him being physically further away from her then she could see in the dark.

“FUCK!”

“What happened?” she called out frantically, trying to see him in the direction his voice had come from.

“I walked into a bed,” he admitted. “I was feeling along the wall instead of in front of me,” he added and seemed to appear almost right in front of her, causing Harper to physically jolt in shock. “Let’s go lay down. There’s a single blanket so maybe we won’t freeze to death,” he added and reached down to scoop her up off the floor again.

“Wha? Kevin?!” she stammered in surprise. “Warn a girl next time.”  
  
"I didn't think you'd be able to get off the floor by yourself without using both arms," he said sheepishly as though he realized he was basically man handling her.  
  
"No, it's ok. I appreciate it; but, like I said, just warn a girl next time," she said with a little bit of laughter in her voice. “Now Mr. Jonas, take me to bed.”  
  
"Yes ma’am," Kevin joked back and began walking carefully, sliding his feet along rather then picking them up and she could hear him counting under his breath as well. When he reached twenty she felt him pause and tried not to laugh as she felt his right leg move back and forth. She could see his frown as he slid forward one more step. He then repeated the action with his right foot, only this time they were rewarded with the sound of his shoe hitting something. “Found it.”’

Harper felt Kevin shift and as gently as possible, considering the lack of lighting to help judge distance, lean down until her rear-end hit a hard mattress. Just sitting on it she could smell dust and mildew and was internally cringing at what it might look like – moth eaten blankets, possibly cob-webs and other critters all using it for a free for all. She shook the thought off; it was still better then the ice cold floor.

“Here, take this,” Kevin suddenly said and Harper heard a tearing sound before two round pills were pushed into her hand. “Gonna have to swallow them dry unfortunately.”

“Can you get my shoes?” she questioned; after choking down the two tablets, made worse by being borderline dehydrated. “Please?”  
  
“Yea,” Kevin agreed, and a second later she heard what she assumed was the leather loafers she remembered he had been wearing hitting the floor, before her own sneakers were unlaced and pulled off. In the dark she felt Kevin’s weight climb onto the bed and move backwards a bit. “The bed’s against the far wall,” his explanation coming from somewhat behind her. “Lean back a bit, I’ll help you lie down so you don’t jostle the arm.”

“Thanks,” she muttered and let him move her into position on her back while attempting not to knock her shoulder into anything.

Lying down next to her on his side, close enough that Harper could actually see him now that her eyes had fully adjusted, Kevin propped his head on his arm and looked out into the darkness of the room. His expression somewhere between furious and terrified.  
  
"Think Randy will get us a lamp if we ask really nicely?" Harper finally asked after what felt like hours of silence had passed without either of them even starting to fall asleep.  
  
"I really hope so," Kevin muttered. "There's only so much two people can do in a room, with only a bed in the dark."  
  
Harper raised an eyebrow at that, "Oh really?"  
  
"Totally not trying to come onto you," Kevin muttered and dropped his head onto the pillow, coughing when it sent a wave of dust into the air. "I'm still tired. Maybe we should sleep," he added, blatantly changing the tone and subject.  
  
"Yea," Harper muttered and pointed her eyes up towards the ceiling rather than the boy next to her. She saw his hands reach forward and a second later a thin, scratchy blanket was laid over them both.

The only sound that broke the now heavy silence was a howling outside – that both tried to tell themselves was wind and now wild animals – and the beginnings of a heavy patter of rain on the roof above their heads.

Neither young adult spoke or slept for the rest of the night.


	4. Chapter Four: Starting The Search

It was coming up on three in the morning; ten hours since the police had been notified that Kevin Jonas had been kidnapped from outside the back of the Philadelphia Wachovia Center. Detective Stephen Castro was sitting in an armchair observing the smallest of the social spaces his department had taken over as an operations room in the Rittenhouse Hotel since the Jonas family had been staying there while in Philadelphia.

‘Parkview’ was on the fourth floor of the hotel with panoramic windows on each side that gave a full view out over the city. The hotel had bent over backwards for the family and, as a result, had outfitted the room that usually hosted cocktail hours or acted as classroom space during conventions into a mix between a bullpen and a living room. There were even a few cots tucked away in the adjoining conference room. Considering the hour the room was mostly empty - the Jonas family, a technical expert who was doing her shift of constantly monitoring the phone system they had set up, the Jonas family's head of security, Big Rob and three other patrol officers were the only other people in the room.

He couldn’t help but monitor the movements of the family and everyone close to them – a man in his early-twenties doesn’t just get scooped up somewhere with the amount of security available without help.  
  
Denise hadn't stopped twisting a bandanna since she had come into the room three hours earlier – having finally gotten her youngest to go to sleep in their suite three floors up – leaving her other son’s assistant and a bodyguard to watch over him for the late night.

Paul had taken to sitting next to his wife on a loveseat for ten minutes before getting up, pacing the entire circumference of the round room, walking out side and pacing the length of the hallway, before coming back in and sitting down – only to repeat the process shortly thereafter.

However, it was the other kids that were causing Stephen the most confusion. Frankie, the youngest, had seemed the most oblivious to the situation. And that was to be expected, he thought. He had heard the boy’s parents carefully wording the situation to him – the assumption of trying not to scare him completely. But, it was Nick and Joe that were almost throwing him off the most. He didn’t for one second think that they had anything to do with their brother’s disappearance; they just, hadn’t shown him much emotion beyond a bit of stress at the time of his initial arrival. It was almost as though they had locked everything down and were purposefully keeping as blank of expressions as possible.

The next time his granddaughter tells him she wants to be a famous singer like Miley, whomever that was, he was going to discourage it strongly. No kid should be this well composed in the face of something that had their parents ready to rip their own hair out.  
  
The detective's contemplation was broken a few seconds later by Denise herself, "It's been hours! How come they haven't called yet? Is this normal?"  
  
Stephen frowned and glanced at the technical analyst from the crime lab out of the corner of his eye in question; she merely looked back at him and shook her head just slightly, conveying the silent message, there wasn't any news yet.  
  
"Sometimes it does take a while for first contact to be made Mrs. Jonas," Stephen said quietly from the chair. He watched as Paul stiffened at his remark; the boy's father was definitely giving off the impression he didn't think the aging detective was doing much to find his son. The truth of it was, he hardly had anything to go on yet. Like he said, it was a game of chess right now and they didn't have the ability to make a counter move. "We can't really do anything until they call us."  
  
"No one's found anything at any roadblocks?" Paul asked nervously.  
  
"Nothing," Stephen said and glanced up as the door opened. The officer he had sent to the airport two hours earlier was standing there with three people. "Mr. and Mrs. Reid?"  
  
"Yes," the man answered stepping forward and holding out his hand to shake. "And our younger daughter Casey-Lynn. Your department arranged for her to be flown here from Boston as well."  
  
"Pleasure. I'm Stephen Castro," Stephen said shaking their hands.  
  
"Is there any word yet?" Maureen Reid asked hopefully.  
  
"Unfortunately, nothing yet," Stephen replied. "Let me introduce you to the Jonas'. This is Denise Jonas, Paul Jonas and two of their sons Nick and Joe," Stephen pointed to each family member and watched as Maureen and Martin stepped forward to talk to Paul and Denise – both couples immediately having a frantic whispered conversation.

Casey-Lynn hung back looking pale and nervous.  
  
"Casey?" The girl looked up at his question so he continued, "Can I speak with you outside for a moment?"  
  
Casey nodded at the detective and followed him into the hallway.  
  
"First off? Are you ok?" he finally asked her.  
  
"I'm fine," she squeaked out and he gave her the same look that always got his granddaughters to fess up to what they were hiding. "Ok...well, I feel like a bad sister."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Harper's missing and all I can think about is how shiny Joe's hair is," Casey finally admitted and Stephen found himself chuckling under his breath. "It's not funny sir."  
  
"No, you're right. It isn't, not really. That isn’t what I was laughing at. You aren't a terrible sister Casey, you're trying to focus on something else. It's normal."  
  
"I should be freaking out right now. I should be, I don’t know, yelling at you to find her.”  
  
"Did those two boys in there look like they're freaking out?"  
  
"No," she replied.  
  
"Exactly...they've been reading and playing with a laptop for going on six hours. Only, I think Joe has turned about four pages in that stretch of time and Nick just keeps staring at the computer screen without moving an inch. I guarantee that's their equivalent to you noticing that Joe's hair is shiny. It’s a distraction your brain is coming up with because of the situation."  
  
The pretty brunette shook her head and laughed, but didn’t sound amused, “I’m pretty sure I always think Joe’s hair is shiny."  
  
That Stephen did laugh at and added, “Well, you’re also eighteen. So I think you can be forgiven this one time.” Casey chuckled, sounding more relaxed then she had a few minutes earlier, so he took a deep breath and continued, “I just needed to ask you a few quick questions – I know you’ve been up at school so obviously, you wouldn’t have seen your sister recently – but did you talk to her at all while she was in Philadelphia?”

Casey nodded nervously, “Yea, I did actually. It wasn’t for very long.”

“Okay, literally anything you can tell me would be helpful.”

“Honestly, I just called her to whine because I was pissed she got to go to the show. I just asked if she had met them, she said she hadn’t. She reminded me she just had a photo pass, not meet and greet or anything like that,” she explained, then blushed while looking suddenly devastated and stopped talking.

“What is it?” Stephen questioned, wondering if maybe thinking back on it she had heard something that they could use.

Casey looked up at him with tears in her eyes and said with a sob, “I told her I hated her.”

“Ah hell kid,” he whispered and reached out to squeeze her shoulder tightly. “She knows you didn’t mean it.”

“What if, what if?”

“Hey hey hey,” Stephen insisted, breaking into her thoughts and turned her to face him more fully. “Do not think like that. Do not. You have to stay thinking positively. Do you understand?”

The blonde nodded, breathing deeply and squeezing her eyes shut, “Positvely. Right. Not that easy.”

“Now one more thing,” Stephen continued once she had calmed a bit. “What time was that call at?”

Casey frowned, wrinkling her brow and looking like she was thinking, “Umm..four…no. Ten after five? Maybe? At least five o’clock and no later then twenty after. I used my dorm phone too cause my cell was charging. So I can’t check. Does that help at all?”

“Slightly,” Stephen admitted. “Do you know where she was when you talked to her?”

“She didn’t say,” Casey replied with a shrug. “But it was pretty quiet in the background. Jonas shows ahead of time are loud. So she was inside somewhere. Her car maybe?”

“Ok,” Stephen muttered and frowned thinking about where the car had been located in conjunction with the loading dock of the venue. At Harper’s height that would be almost a ten minute slow walk, factoring in the temperature and her moving a bit quicker perhaps? Five to seven minutes. “Hey, any idea why she would have been behind the venue anyway? That’s one thing we can’t seem to figure out for certain.”

“Honestly? No. If it was me I’d say I was looking to try and meet the Jonas’. But Harper doesn’t like their music. I doubt she got lost either.”

“Is your sister the type to see something and go check it out?”

“She wants to be a photojournalist. So that’s a big yes to that question. I could easily see her realizing Kevin was in trouble and running into a situation she had no business being anywhere near. But she’s also not stupid – so she was probably just taking a walk and it would have been quiet back there.”

Stephen nodded and finally said, “Okay. Thanks Casey. You can head back in now. Your parents don’t need to worry about you too.”

Casey smiled back thinly and allowed herself to be led back into the room. Stephen watched as she nervously, but this time without pausing, walked across the room and took the seat in between Joe and Nick on the large couch the boys had claimed earlier.  
  
Stephen watched as the three kids glanced at each other, nodded and went back to their own sources of entertainment; Casey pulling out her own book from her backpack.  
  
As he began making his way over to the parents of the missing young adults his cell phone rang. He quickly jotted down the information the lab relayed to him and felt both a sense of relief and apprehension at it. It wasn’t much; but it took one small worry off his mind at least.  
  
Shaking his head after finishing the call he walked over to the four adults who were discussing the fact that the Jonas family had arranged for two rooms just down the hall from them for the Reid's.  
  
"You didn't have to do that. We can make arrangements somewhere," Maureen insisted.  
  
"Nonsense. We aren't leaving here, and I doubt you are either. We’re going to need to sleep," Denise replied and Stephen cleared his throat to get their attention.  
  
"Sorry to interrupt folks," Stephen's gravelly voice broke into their conversation and holding up his cell phone. "That was the lab."  
  
"Yes?" Maureen asked sounding terrified.  
  
"They used hair from the brush that was in Harper’s bag and compared the DNA. The hair on the ground belonged to her. However, the only blood that belonged to her was the exceedingly small amount we found near the barricade. The lab said that the amount plus the arrangement – she might, at most, have a bloody nose. There was no indication of any type of arterial spray or excessive blood loss in that area. Everything indicated a downward drop landing in the minimal splatter. The large pool, heading back towards the door, was from an unidentified male," Stephen told them. Stressing the word unidentified before any parental thoughts immediately thought the blood had come from Kevin. “We know that happened after because none of his blood was near Harper’s and there’s a trail of it, drops indicating he was heading back towards the area near the door. As if he was injured and then tried to stem it in the same spot he was injured but either wasn’t able to wrap it properly or it was a very serious injury that wasn’t about to stop bleeding anytime soon.”  
  
Maureen covered her mouth and whispered, "Thank god. So she's probably not hurt that badly then?"  
  
Stephen grimaced and reinforced one fact, "We don't know that yet. You have to hope for the best, but be prepared for the worst." Stephen then looked around and added, "All of you."  
  
All the occupants of the room nodded somberly. They understood. Just because the blood wasn't Kevin's didn't mean he was ok. And just because there wasn’t a lot of Harper’s blood didn’t mean she wasn’t hurt worse – lots of injuries don’t bleed externally.  
  
"There was something else. Harper's camera did have photos on it and they were clear and focused. They were just not at any angle that our photo recognition software could work with." He watched as the entire room deflated and added the worst part, "Basing off her camera’s time-stamp she appears to have been taking candid shots of Kevin – maybe for about five minutes. Then about three minutes later she switched to an auto-setting and there’s at least thirty photos with seconds in between them of three men speaking with your son and then grabbing him; there’s also a few photos of a small moving truck and it’s license plate.”

“That’s good right?” Paul Jonas interjected in question.

“It’s not bad,” Stephen cautiously admitted. “We ran the plates – they came back stolen but to the same model truck. The plates were stolen out of Virginia so Philly traffic now has something more specific to look for and State Police are increasing patrols around the border too.”

“Virginia?” this time the interruption came from Martin Reid. “Out of state? What if they got out of state already?”

“We had the roadblocks up almost immediately Mr. Reid,” Stephen gently reminded him, ignoring his own gut feeling that it had been too many hours to have not heard from anyone yet regarding a ransom. Unless they were still travelling.  
  
As the detective finished that statement the door to the conference room opened. Castro looked up and almost groaned as in stepped his onetime protege, Tommy Lyon. His protégé right up until he decided a federal badge would be better for his career prospects. Somehow the kid went FBI and caught a case of stupid.  
  
"Tommy," he nodded a greeting. "What exactly are you doing here? No one called in the FBI that I was told."  
  
"You should have called me yourself Castro," Special Agent Thomas Lyon with the FBI stated with a raised eyebrow. "It’s a kidnapping. That’s automatically federal. But a kidnapping at this level? This is my case now."  
  
"Oh why? ‘Cause the kid’s famous? That’s why it’s your case now? Like hell it is kid," Stephen told the young, blonde agent sarcastically. He smirked as he watched Tommy momentarily thrown off his game but almost immediately the young agent's mask was back in place.  
  
"No, not because he’s famous – because it’s a kidnapping. That is a federal crime no matter how you try and twist it."  
  
"This is my case Tommy," Stephen said softly after stepping up close to the young man so he wouldn't be overheard and stared down at him with hard eyes. “You do not come into my house and take my cases. You used to know that.”  
  
"Fine," the agent said after a few moments of silence. "But I'm working it."  
  
Stephen nodded and stepped back knowing that only the respect he held both in the PD and in the local FBI office was why he had won that battle. Now he just had to keep Tommy's enthusiasm from getting these kids killed. Shaking the thought off Stephen made the introductions around the room watching as Tommy carefully shook hands with the parents and completely ignored the teens.  
  
"So, I just want you all to know that right now this case my top priority," Tommy was saying to the Jonas and Reid parents. "I've already got the kids pictures released to the media along with what the Philly PD could get off Harper's camera. Kid got some good shots but they're at bad angles for our computers to get anything with the facial recognition software. We’re hoping someone knows who they are."  
  
Stephen groaned and waited for the explosion. He didn't need to wait long as Denise Jonas screamed, "You released what happened to the press are you crazy?! Do you know what the reaction to this will be? The fans are going to lose their minds."  
  
"Ma'am, I understand you're upset, but this is the way the case needs to be handled. We need them scared that we're onto them," Tommy tried placating the woman not really understanding why she was concerned about the press when her son was missing.  
  
"It's not that I don't want to do what's best for Kevin. But I have...you wouldn't understand," she said quietly and took her cell phone out to call the boys' press agent to make sure there weren't any crazy fan reactions happening.  
  
While the Jonas parents were distracted with business Stephen grabbed Tommy's arm and dragged him out into the hallway.  
  
"What?"  
  
"They didn't want the girl," he snapped at the younger man.  
  
"What?"  
  
"The kidnappers didn't want the girl," Stephen repeated slower and watched as Tommy froze.  
  
"The file said the girl was his girlfriend."  
  
"She's not. She was an unfortunate...let’s call her, bystander. They don't want her. And she’s a liability, especially now if they find out she’s the one who took the pictures, and I've been trying not to let those parents in there figure that out completely."  
  
"Shit," the agent whispered and ran a hand down his face as a slight panic over the press announcement he had made started to sink in.  
  
"So, please tell all you told the press was that Harper was Kevin’s girlfriend,” Stephen asked the younger man seriously.  
  
"I told them she was the photographer," Tommy said in a strangled voice. "I thought she was his girlfriend. That she was either a target or a bonus for more money."  
  
"Yea. Well, she’s not,” Stephen snapped, pulling back on his rage. “What are you gonna do now?"  
  
"First? Fire a file clerk," Tommy seethes and pulls out his phone walking away.  
  
"You shoulda never left the PD to become a fucking Fed kid! You used to know what you were doing!" Stephen called after him in exasperation.  
  
Turning Stephen went to go enter the conference room and had to step out of the way as the three teens walked out the door in front of him.  
  
"Where are you three going?"  
  
"The hotel restaurant," Nick answered. "We need to be...somewhere else.”

“Yea,” Joe added. “Our parents are driving us all into anxiety attacks.”  
  
"Ok. Don’t leave the hotel," Stephen agreed and reminded them. He then watched them go until they reached the elevator bay; walking back into the conference room, once they were out of sight, to try and smooth over the Kid's first bad move.

* * *

  
"What's your mom so freaked out about?" Casey asked Nick and Joe as they got onto the elevator with Mike stepping in with them.  
  
"Honestly? One of the crazier fans offing themselves," Joe muttered cynically.  
  
"No way?" Casey said eyes wide.  
  
"They're slightly obsessed," Nick assured her. “Some more then slightly.”  
  
"There's no one that nuts," Casey insisted as she stepped off the elevator in the lobby. "I'm a fan and I'd never be that nuts."  
  
"That's you. You aren't like them," Joe pointed out and placed a hand on her back to steer the girl towards the restaurant and away from the front doors of the lobby where the crowd of hundreds of fans was waiting.  
  
"Jesus Christ," Casey whispered as she spotted them.  
  
"What you’ve never waited outside our hotel for us?” Joe asked in a sarcastic tone as they walked into the restaurant with Mike following the three teens closely.  
  
"So," Nick asked a few minutes later when they had all sat and given their drink orders. "What is Casey-Lynn Reid's story?"  
  
"I'm eighteen. I'm a freshman at Boston University where I'm studying English Lit and I'm a big Jonas Brothers fan."  
  
"You're really admitting that to us?" Nick asked laughing and Casey shrugged.  
  
"I'm not ashamed of it and in the grand scheme of things it seems a little unimportant right now," she said quietly.  
  
"What's wrong?" Joe asked eying the brunette. "Besides the obvious."  
  
"What was the last thing you said to Kevin?" she asked him instead of answering, still thinking back to the discussion she had with the Detective earlier.  
  
Joe swallowed and she watched his eye's darken, "I called him a whipped idiot. Then I told him if he kept it up, I was going to buy him a leash to give to Danielle to use.”  
  
"Wow...you almost win. I told my sister I hate her," Casey said not meeting their eyes and instead taking a big sip of her water. "So that's me in a nutshell. College student and shitty sibling."  
  
Joe reached under the table and took the younger girl’s hand in his and squeezed it before stating assuredly, "They're going to be ok."  
  
"They have to be," Nick added looking terrified for the first time since he had heard.  
  
"Yea," Casey agreed. "They have to be."  
  
The three teens spent the rest of the meal silent at the table, eating mechanically and waiting for their cell phones to ring with news from upstairs.


End file.
